


Looks Like I Fell For You...

by LiraelClayr007



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 14:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20602064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: She’s never seen the Doctor so tired before.Cross? Sure. Melodramatic? Absolutely. Amused? Every single day. Arrogant? You bet.But tired? It just doesn’t happen.And yet.___In which the Doctor is tired and Rose has difficulties getting him to the TARDIS to sleep.





	Looks Like I Fell For You...

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to Ninth Doctor Day is just a _tiny_ bit late. Alas, sometimes life gets in the way...

She’s never seen the Doctor so tired before.

Cross? Sure. Melodramatic? Absolutely. Amused? Every single day. Arrogant? You bet.

But tired? It just doesn’t happen.

And yet.

They’re walking back to the TARDIS, the dusty ground of America’s old west below their feet, a blanket of stars above their heads. The Doctor squeezes Rose’s hand and asks, “So what did you think of your first cattle drive, Rose?”

She laughs, in spite of herself. “Well, I was expectin’ an easy visit for a bit of American history. Maybe a little horseback ridin’. Only you would volunteer us for two weeks of cattle rustlin’.”

His steps weave from right to left and back again. “It was a true cowboy experience!”

“Cow_girl_,” Rose interjects.

He actually snorts. “It was _authentic_, Rose. Besides, they would have lost countless animals without extra help. It’s their livelihood. How could I not?”

“My _bruises_ have bruises,” she says, but without much vigor. She actually had enjoyed their time in the 1800s. Excepting the bruises, of course.

The Doctor’s tired head falls sideways, to rest on her shoulder. “Sharing a bedroll was nice,” he murmurs, half into her hair, half into her ear.

“I’m fair certain we scandalized them,” she says, slipping an arm around his waist. He responds by nuzzling deeper into her hair--and leaning even more of his weight against her.

“They thought we were heathen foreigners long before we got snuggly,” he says with a dismissive wave. He nearly loses his balance. “Besides, you were cold. How else could I keep you warm?”

Rose tightens her grip on his waist. “We’ve got to get you to bed, Doctor.”

“Rose Tyler! Are you propositioning your alien pilot?”

This is too much. She practically hears the wink.

“Doctor!” she sputers.

This, apparently, is the last straw. The exhausted Doctor laughs, and in laughing can no longer keep to his feet. He clutches at Rose, almost manages to stay up, then they both topple over. At first they are a tangle of arms, legs, dusty skirts, and flyaway blond hair but eventually they somehow they end up with Rose on her back and the Doctor’s head resting on her stomach; they make a large letter “T” on the scrubby ground. The Doctor curls onto his side so he can see Rose’s face. “Looks like I fell for you, Rose Tyler,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Rose bites back a groan at his cheesy line. Instead she grins herself and says sweetly, “Yes, Doctor, and whenever you fall I’ll be right here to catch you.”

“Right you are,” he says, scooting himself sideways until they are side by side, hands linked again. “What would I do without you?”

She isn’t sure how to answer, so she says nothing. What can she say to that? Her heart beats wildly in her chest; the sound so loud in her ears that she can’t tell if the Doctor has fallen asleep beside her or if he’s still fighting to stay awake. When she gives his hand a gentle squeeze and he responds in kind she knows he’s at least partly awake so she starts to sit up.

He pulls her back down.

“Come on, Doctor. The TARDIS is only ten or twelve steps away. Then we can get you into your nice comfy bed.” It occurs to her that she’s not even sure if he _has_ a bed, but she’s fairly certain the TARDIS will find one for him if it comes down to it.

“We’ll jus’ sleep here,” he mutters, his words slurring slightly in his exhaustion. “Ou’side. Like the stars.”

“I think there’s a rock under my head.”

“Name it Pillow, then.”

Rose extracts her hand from his and pulls herself to her feet. “I’m going inside, Doctor. To my warm, cozy bed. Enjoy your dirt patch.”

The Doctor reaches out and grasps at the hem of her skirt; not hard, just enough so she doesn’t walk away. “If I come inside…”

The silence expands between them, and Rose wonders again if he’s fallen asleep when suddenly he says, “Will you stay with me?” His voice is quiet and raw and somehow more real than ever before. Rose crouches down beside him and she can see vulnerability in his eyes. She’d never expected to see such realness in starlight.

Kneeling down beside him, Rose pulls on the Doctor’s arms until he’s sitting up as well. More than a bit lost in his gaze, Rose says, “Yeah. I’ll stay. Don’t have anywhere else to be just now.”

Not long after, they fall into sleep holding hands, and each other.


End file.
